


Lay it Down for the Last Time

by helena_s_renn



Category: Def Leppard, Music RPF
Genre: Angst and Humor, Dying Wish, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Implied Character Death, M/M, Sex, Terminal Illnesses, The Def Leppard curse, Viv and Sav take the piss out of each other, or something, other Def Leppard members mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 05:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13047597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helena_s_renn/pseuds/helena_s_renn
Summary: Viv comes to terms with his illness, and asks Sav to visit him in home hospice.





	Lay it Down for the Last Time

**Author's Note:**

> Never happened. Dear g*d, may nothing like this ever happen! They that remain should live forever.
> 
> Warnings: infidelity and mentions of past promiscuity (as most people would define them); sex; frank discussions of death-, illness-, and aging-related topics. 
> 
> ADD'L WARNING: This is a deathfic even though no one explicitly dies in it. Please hit your Back button if this will be too disturbing for you. If you don't take this seriously, that's on you - you were warned.
> 
> This is fiction, and is not meant to represent any real life person, nor events other those already on record. It is not, in any way, a prediction... more like a wish for the opposite. 
> 
> Please 'hear' the piss-taking as done gently and with love. 
> 
> As for 'the curse', it's an easy way to single out some special people for some extra-special misery they didn't deserve. But who does? Life throws crap at everyone. The 7 mentioned in this fic includes Steve and Pete. 
> 
> Mad-Eye Moody - character from Harry Potter  
> Tay-Tay - Taylor Swift  
> Happy campfire stalker ballad - acoustic "Two Steps Behind"
> 
> Expect the usual DL lyric and bandom references. The author supplied the new song lyrics within the "//...//". Sorry if they're lame. 
> 
> Beta/review x 2 by ChristianHowe. Any remaining errors are mine.

_If love ain't a miracle_  
_It sure ain't a sin._  
-P. Collen 

 

-Today  
-Future  
-Never

 

They were giving him three weeks now.

Three weeks.

Surely they could be wrong, a little bit wrong, a few days off either way. Even so, he had a timer on his life now, one that he could feel ticking away on him every day, taking pieces of him: his energy and his creativity and most of all the temple he lived in. Just as of yesterday, Vivian swore, it was like someone had stripped the muscle from his arms and left him with two matchsticks. It was harder to breathe. Did he want to run it out, down to the last second? Viv didn't think he had any songs left in him. Just the one.

No, he decided, he would call his friends and relatives to him one by one, or in couples or groups. They needn't know why - at least, he'd make no official announcement. Some guessed, of course; people had probably been expecting it for years, what with round after round of chemotherapy, stem cell transplant, more chemo, immunotherapy, clinical trial, on and on. Since they lived in the vicinity, Phil and Rick had visited him several times apiece already, and while they didn't ask, Viv knew they understood upon seeing him what this meant. Some extended family and old friends that he'd really have liked to see again had financial or time constraints and couldn't come. Some refused, unable to stare mortality in the face. Ah, well. He wasn't so special. Another one bites the dust and all that.

...

The parade of visitors through his home turned out to be much more of an effort than Vivian had estimated. There were those who tried to act normal with him. Tried and failed. Joe, when he arrived on the JFK-LAX connection, couldn't keep a hold on his usual look-away-and-you-die death glare. Well, Viv barely recognised his own face in the mirror anymore either - all eyes and jawbone, hair mostly gone grey and the curl just short fuzz now - so the hastily-covered double-takes he'd noticed a couple of times stood to reason. Some of his visitors hugged him carefully or held his hand. People brought him flowers and gifts he didn't need. Why?

Others cried. That, he found a waste of energy, and especially draining. It invariably brought him to tears as well, not out of self-pity: an empathetic response to the other person's pain. 'Ironic much?' he kept asking himself, and wondered how other poor sods who found themselves in this position dealt with it. There had been a girl, maybe 18 or 19 years old at the time that he recalled from one of his groups, when he could still attend, who'd gone into remission, but at the acute stage where her doctors wrongly predicted that she only had a week to live, would not allow her own hysteric, overwrought grandmother near her. Now Viv finally understood. 

His nurses warned him to slow down or he would cut his time shorter yet. He'd have argued with them, only he knew deep in his brittle bones they were right. His cough was getting worse. He wanted to sleep more and more, some of that because of the medicine to keep his lungs clear. Every waking minute of every day, his entire body just ached. He was holding on, waiting; he'd need his waning strength. After discussing it with his wife, they agreed: It was enough now. Those few days had not been easy on him. Time to close up shop and call it a day.

Except...

It was another 24 hours before Sav arrived, although he never said what had delayed him. Vivian stood from the bed he'd been napping in, spending more and more time in, to greet him on legs that complained about holding him up to receive a cautious hug. They went through the motions. Couldn't do otherwise, it seemed. Family, kids, Sav's journey there, the band. After half an hour, they wound down. His timer told Viv he'd be up for his next round of meds in 90 minutes. Just another countdown.

"Tea?" Vivian offered when the conversation lagged. It was a fall-back. They'd been avoiding what he was all too keenly aware were the issues at hand.

On some other occasion Sav might have said yes but he shook his head. It seemed an odd, out-of-place offer. He didn't want Viv to wait on him, nor for others to interrupt if Viv wasn't up to heating water and whatever on his own. From what Rick had told him on the phone, he was here to say goodbye. That was bad enough, but for someone else, a stranger to him, to barge in on such a private thing, one Sav wasn't sure he'd live through, himself...? Just. No. 

"Would you bring me my guitar?" It was the red-painted acoustic with white flowers etched on the pick guard. Quickly, Sav tuned it with harmonics: the D and B had been slightly off. Then he approached, turned it around and sideways, laid it upon Vivian's lap. He fished a pick from his own front pocket.

"Can we write something?" Viv asked him.

Sav seemed interested. "Do you have an idea?"

"Aye, but just like a demo. I don't think I can sing. My voice's gone." As if to punctuate his statement, Viv coughed suddenly, looking surprised as he whipped his fist up in front of his mouth.

"I know the feeling... remember Rio? You idjits should've fucking told me."

Croaking the words, Viv managed, "We couldn't. You were our hero." A bowl of lozenges sat on his bedside table, a few empty wrappers around it. Helping himself to one, Viv undid the paper wrapper and popped it into his mouth.

"Oh bullshit. You had the sweetest, most versatile voice, and you know it. It always moved me. Sometimes you carried us all." Viv looked up and saw nothing but watery blue eyes: one, the Sav he'd always known, the other startled and somehow flat. "Gonna miss..."

"Don't."

"Please, Viv! Isn't there something more they can do? I mean, I'll write the cheque, fuck it." Denial. Bargaining.

Viv shook his head. "Been through all that. They say in a few more days, I'll be too out of it to leave this bed. When I see that coming, I'll be hitting the morphine button hard."

Sav jerked as if someone had hit him, hard. "Viv, I... when... who will be here for you?"

"Hopefully no one. Don't want anyone to see me like that. Bad enough the way it is."

"You do look like hell." Sav said wryly as he swiped at the outer corners of his eyes with his fingers, getting a grip. 

"Thanks, mate. So what's with the Mad-Eye Moody?" They'd been taking the piss out of each other since Viv's first tour with them, when Sav had called him a stage-hogging egomaniac and Viv retorted that Sav could shut it till he got better at dressing himself than the average three-year-old. The words were par for their usual verbal sparring. 

"Shut it, yeh wanker!" Sav's go-to word was anything related to "fuck"; this one, he reserved especially for Viv.

"The hell you say. Wish I could. 'S another thing that don't work no more."

It took Sav a second to comprehend what he'd just been told. Had Viv really gone there? "Oh, shit, Viv, I'm so sorry."

"Yeah... me, too. There were some things we never got around to." Vivian deemed it time to acknowledge the pink elephant in the room: now or never. "Why not?" he asked, head up, blunt as fuck, but he had no more time to dance around the subject.

Startled again, Sav. His slow-motion blink encompassed both eyes. "Wot?" Viv just stared at him. Not blankly, though. His eyes traced familiar features. The side of his mouth curled up into the slightest half-smile. Sav's cheeks coloured as he realised the implications. However, he wasn't sidestepping it, either. "Why in fuck did you never say anything?"

Viv shrugged. "Never the right time. Being we were band-mates. Both of us married and all..." Oh, the irony in that.

"And still are!" Sav raked his hair straight back from his face with both hands. The way he pulled on it belied his turmoil. "Your wife...?" She was the one who'd let him into the house. Jeez, she'd even hugged him and all!

"I broke my vows to be with her - 25 years with the ex, over and gone. And... she knows, mate. Made me tell her, pried it out of me." Vivian shook his head at the memory of that day. A ring, a Yes, but not before he'd finally proved himself worthy by entrusting his little secret to her voluntarily, because she'd guessed. "If I asked her to, she'd stand guard with a sword outside the door while we fucked."

"Oh yeah? Mine would cut off my balls, roast them on a spit and eat them for dinner in front of me," Sav said theatrically. Stopped. Almost as an aside, he recanted, "If I told her." 

Viv nodded. While he was in no position to become anyone's lover, he was clear on the fact that just the mention of it made Sav squirm. The fact that they were both men had nothing to do with it. Sav didn't turn ex-pat for tax exile; well, he had, but he'd returned. He remained nearby to his family of origin. He didn't 'do' side projects, which the rest of them laughingly referred to as their mistresses. Of all of them, Sav was 100 percent Leppard: The man was loyal. 

It wasn't that Viv wanted to be the one to negate this trait; some people, he knew, got off on sullying a person's innate sanctity. Nor did he think Sav was perfect: he smoked, he overused the f-bomb, he was on his second marriage same as most of the rest of them. Until now, Viv had had all the time in the world to ask for special consideration, for sex, for love, for anything. Sav, in fact, had been more or less available the first decade of their acquaintance. The condition of Vivian's health didn't excuse him - Viv was acutely aware of that. But regardless, he was still asking. The worst that could happen was that Sav said no. Either way, they'd never see each other again. 

"So that's what you want from me...? You want me to fuck you?" Conflict ran rampant across Sav's face: Part disgust, because too many people, known and unknown, had only wanted him for sex. Part resignation, because why should he expect anything else? And then confusion, why now? He'd made his peace with the status quo, had done so again and again whenever things got stirred up, that it just was not meant to happen. Part of it was curiosity - Vivian had always eluded him, just out of reach in spite of the multiple times they'd connected on other levels. Knowing why now didn't make Sav feel better.

Then too, one final conflicting sentiment: desire, heat, or more like Sav was doing his best not to show it. Vivian doubted that particular aspect had anything to do with him here and now, today, skin and bones, diminished, aged beyond his years. Still, had he not been sitting in his bed already, seeing even a shadow of that directed at him would have knocked his knees out from under him.

"That's not what I... No, not fucking." God, what a conversation, the dead and the dying, maybe the insane. Viv flexed his fingers, played the transition to a certain song. They'd both sung those words countless times, but he couldn't vocalise them.

Neither, apparently, could Sav. Not exactly. "That feeling? I believe yeh. Can't stop it, either. Listen, we could trade song lyrics all night here. But you should know, in fairness: Me and Steve. Me and Joe. Just a few times each. Phil and Steve, those two were heavy for like, three or four years. Rick, yeah that little bugger when he turned 18," Sav recalled the last bit with amusement, "a million years ago. We all made him wait till he was official. So... Me and Joe on Phil when he was freaking the fuck out after Steve, I could go on. Pretty much everyone with everyone. How did you not know this?"

Viv countered, eyes blazing, "I knew! Believe me, I've heard it all. What, did you think Phil was gonna pass this up?" He snorted rudely. "Or Joe not assert his authority? As you said, Rick, that little bugger. Goddamn, do they like to compare stories. What the fuck, Sav?"

"I- We... shite. So I'm the one in the dark," Sav almost moaned the words, shook his head, then huffed. Clearly disconcerted, used to being on the inside, in the know, he nearly called Viv a liar, but didn't make that mistake. It made too much sense. "Thought we were mostly past all that when you joined."

"Maybe _you_ were..." Viv decided to throw him a bone. So to speak. "Well, that was early days. After I understood a few things, I never looked back. I just waited." In silence, in vain hope, when he could have been a man about it and declared himself.

"There were a number of times I thought for sure you and I would, y'know, but it never happened." Remembering those times, every time Viv had paused in what he had thought was silent reflection, and then bid him good night, goodbye, 'Later', Sav heaved a sigh, shrugged. He could be intense when he wanted to, and he stared Vivian down. "I'll take my share of the blame, but you can't put it all on me. So... why not?"

"Really? Because... I guess because I never knew for sure. What you'd do. What you'd say. I fell in love with the bouncy young stud pup in ripped jeans that you were, and watching all the shite life put you through only made me... well, let's just say it never let up. It's really that simple. I didn't want to fuck things up. So, when?" He meant, when had the wall worn the thinnest.

Ticking off his fingers, Sav recited, "Sheffield in '93 - it started on that stage, Viv. Knowing you were one of us now. Not a replacement but an addition. When we were filming the Slang videos. Jesus, I wanted you... the way you moved. God-forsaken North Dakota state fair in 2007, when I thought it couldn't get any worse and you wouldn't let me drink myself into oblivion. Crossroads. Vegas. When we recorded We Belong. Luna. I dunno, just... moments. You were like the mouthy little brother I never had but... more." Every reference was loaded with some sort of shared meaning. A look, some double entendre. Vibes that thrummed between them, some for seconds, some for months, never acted on.

Before it was over, Viv couldn't look at him anymore. He was lost in Sav's list, blending it with his own. There was a lot of overlap. "Pretty much any time we were in Minneapolis or Seattle. All of you were just... so damned lost. And you." Viv shook his head. "You poor bastard. You'd never talk about it; you ever get over it?" He got a nod, and knew it was true. "On the other hand, it wasn't all angst... remember Tay-Tay? She looked at you like she wanted to hump your leg!"

Sav let out a long-suffering groan. "Oh Christ, Viv! Don't even go there. Kid was still underage in the States." 

"And? Y'kept egging her on." Viv did his best to imitate a thick Yorkshire accent Sav never approached: 'Coontreh is lahk rowck wit' fiddles'... blah blah blah. You know if her mum weren't glaring daggers at you..." 

"Enough! Maybe you don't understand exactly what we owe that girl, but I don't pay that way. Anyway... You were the one who kept staring... think she was scared of you?" 

"Nah, I'm not that much of a dog. I basically didn't exist in her eyes, since I wasn't part of her in utero musical indoctrination. That's all... used to that--" 

"Vivian--" 

Sav wouldn't use his full name if he wasn't upset. Viv waved him off and took up the thread again. "So anyway... Filming the video for Rock On, I spent the entire afternoon with that camera planted between my legs. You in your leather and your fucking eyeliner, always lookin'..."

"Did not." 

"Did so. Sand in my eyes and my teeth, trying to hold that stance, sweating my balls off... fuck, Sav I thought for sure that time..." 

"Same here, mighta, except for your, erm, digestive issues." 

Viv flushed, and wheezed, "And you directly down-wind! No clue why you went and stood on the hillside. How about Dublin in 2011...? Remember how pissed Joe was at us?" he giggled.

The sound of his laughter was straight off the set, and Sav chuckled, too. "We totally fucked up his big, happy campfire sing-along of the creepy stalker ballad, screwing around on stage." He sat up a little straighter. "The audience loved it."

"Aye, they did," Viv nodded, grinning, almost as wide as he had that night. "Lots of youtube vids of that. Most of them tagged 'beautiful Rick Savage' or some such bollocks. Well, as to that... most of 2011. And 2012, and '13. We know what happened then." 

Sav nodded: Then, Viv's illness began. "I know. Me, too. I'm an idiot," he ground out.

"We're idiots."

"Yeah. Wish to god things had gone different."

"Mm-hm." Vivian started to play. His hands... they looked so old. He still had his reach, though. Suddenly he wished for his repaired silver-sparkle Gibson and one of his Engl stacks to make the thing wail, meow, sing. Instead he went for simple sustained chords, transitioned it an octave higher, damping them on the second downbeat to make the distinctive "chk!" Phil was so good at. It all came back to E, or E-flat since they down-tuned. He threw in what could have been a variation on the solo to Blind Faith, bending the strings, pulling at them and hammering with his ring finger. Did it all again.

He opened his eyes. Couldn't recall closing them. Sav was watching his hands, his chord progression. Vivian could see him churning lyrics in his head. "Whatcha got?"

"I dunno yet. Something like... _//"Tell me dark days won't come down on us... When all we had was 'never meant to be'..."//_ Sorry, that's fucking depressing."

"Nah, man, there can still be light at the end of the rainbow. Or something."

"God, Viv. Shut your mouth."

"Make me." Viv stared at him again. Smiled crookedly. Looked away. "No, tell me more... Words." He played what would the third and fourth lines of a verse again.

Sav gasped in a breath. He was struggling, but managed, "Maybe like, _//The stars above, they said we had too much to give, One season to the next never did foresee."//_ His voice was stretched thin, going to nasal like it did when he overused it. Viv saw nothing but white-blond with dark roots as Sav bowed his head, leant forward in his chair. "I don't want to write a song like that. It's not worthy of you. It's shite."

"How about just, _//...could not foresee//_ ? Or 'did not'? Too many syllables otherwise. Who says it's about me?"

"Twat."

"Finish it, Sav. At least it needs a chorus."

"No, I can't. I just keep thinking of mushy songs we've already written and that's not it." Sav glanced shrewdly over at Vivian. "You have a line, don't you?"

"Well, you'll think of something. Maybe like," he strummed a bit, knew his voice was dry and reedy, " _//Don't have to say it, put your foot across the line.//_ " Here, Viv let a riff he'd been sitting on for years ring out. " _//Lay it down, lay it down for the last time...//_ Give it to the others, together you can fix it right up."

"I promise you, you'll get full writing credits."

Vivian spoke carefully, "Thanks, but it's not going to matter."

"Yes it will! For the rest of us. For anyone who ever hears it."

"Fine. When that oiled-up little Limey bastard who stands far to my left goes to channel me, tell him he had best mind staying off his wang bar."

Sav shuddered, got up, turned his back and crossed the room to the closest window, leaning on the sill. It was twilight, the sky deepest teal, a few pink and gold-tinged clouds the only reminder of the sun. Phil. Maybe that was his curse, since he'd otherwise avoided it thus far: having to step into the boots of dead or otherwise gone bandmates. He could just see the line of them - seven of them - standing before Death and making deals. Would there be a number eight? Who could replace Viv? They'd been through that before, and in their circle of friends, acquaintances, and rivals, he could not think of one musician worthy who wasn't otherwise engaged. Maybe they'd need to look outside their own insular sphere. What if... what if Sav went next? There were a-million-and-one semi-talented bass players in the world. All they'd have to do was draw lots. 

"Don't do that, Sav."

"Then you fucking do it! Invite me here, why don't you and tell me... when it's too late. How can you be so calm?"

"I'm not. I'm so scared my heart could give out from fear sometimes. And wouldn't that be the easier road, hm? But what can I do? I gotta live through it, till I don't anymore." Vivian had never said those words to anyone. Not to his wife, for whom he tried to be strong, and not to the shrink they'd made him talk to before staging his bedroom as his deathbed. "So are you gonna grant me my dying wish, or are you gonna just stand there with your fucking back to me like I'm already gone? If you can't stand to look at me now, just go."

It took a while, thirty seconds rolled by. A minute. Two minutes, more. The little fridge by Vivian's bedside table kicked in. The set of Sav's shoulders, the slant of his backbone, as he shifted his weight from foot to foot spoke his inner debate; at last the ends of his hair descended to the tops of his scapulae as his head came up. He turned and faced his fate, determined. "Viv, I'm here for you. Please, tell me what I can do." Sav's heart was pounding like mad. He took the guitar and set it back on its stand. Sure he knew what he'd be asked, he deflected, "Say a prayer for your soul?"

"No. Waste of breath." Knowing it was ludicrous, but also - now - that he was safe in asking, Viv announced, "I... I want to see you. All of you."

"You've lost your marbles already, mate. You sure about that? 'Cuz... I mean, fuck, I'm old." Sav gestured at himself.

Vivian rolled his eyes. "Who of us isn't old now? Besides, you're still... how is it they're putting it lately? Hot AF." 

"What the fuck is that?" The way Sav asked, it was like he knew he was out of touch, and didn't particularly care.

"What rock have you been buried under?" The easy lilt contradicted the question, as well as the answer. "Surely your kids use it. A.F. 'As fuck'... Yeah, you're almost 60 but have you seen your arse in those...?"

"You know what, Viv? I've been hearing shite like that since I was 16. It doesn't... I don't give... AF," Sav finished clumsily, with a double hand-wave for emphasis. 

"Leave it to the dumb bass player to screw up the terminology." They both laughed. Debatably, Sav had received more 'hot' comments over the long term, but no one who mattered had ever called him dumb - Viv paraphrased that sentiment now. 

"Mm. Shall I lock the door then, or is your Missus gonna stand out there with her flaming sword?"

"I never said flaming. You're flaming. On stage in a dress and make-up, all your sequins and rhinestones, shaving your pits..." 

"Should try it. Yeh hairy beast. Shut up or..." Sav didn't even bother addressing the rest, just rolled his eyes. They'd been around and around on those points for years already.

But Viv was on a roll. "Don't even wanna know what else you shave."

"Oh yes you do! You just asked me to get nekkid in front of you and show off me hot AF..."

Viv laughed again. And Sav... he was next to the bed, stripping down. Slowly. Not showy. More like, just a tired man getting ready to shower or change clothes. First the blue-and-white scarf draped around his neck, then his jacket. Four buttons down the black sleeveless waistcoat. Belt; one button and the zip on faded jeans while he toed his shoes off. Each garment, he dropped over the back of the chair he'd been sitting in for his visit, eyes mostly cast to the side.

"You think it's sexy, watchin' me take my socks off?"

"Maybe not the socks," Viv smirked. Sav's cheeks were glowing pink again and Viv was willing to bet Sav's ears were, too, not that anyone ever saw Sav's ears. The middle of his chest was faintly ruddy. Lower, much more so.

"Should I... Turn around?" The offer was not expected. Viv wasn't going to say no. The shuffle to rotate 180 degrees lasted... well, as long as Sav wanted it to last. He was no ballerina. He didn't have to be.

The audible breathing from behind Sav turned wheezy; Vivian's fingers, cool and still calloused on his left side, landed along Sav's waist. He held them in place, felt the flesh and bone beneath living skin, having the most luxuriant view he could want. "The show when we filmed Ded Flatbird. You in that short blue jacket. I got a hint that night whenever you went up to the front of the stage to bang your head... when I saw the youtube version, I thought I'd fuckin' die. Your... I don't even know what they're called. Back dimples. Between the bottom of the jacket and your belt. Here," Viv's thumbs stretched over to circle the little hollows. "Fucking hell."

"Didn't know that was a thing. Boob man, arse man, leg man, back dimple man?" Sav barked a laugh, short and harsh, before he turned around the rest of the way.

"It's a desirable trait. So of course you have 'em. In women, it means they have an easier time orgasming."

Sav sniggered, gesturing with both hands again. "Oh, god! What, did you look that up? Like most blokes need any help!" Then he remembered. "Sorry!"

"It's okay. Can I touch you?" Viv's respirations had accelerated; he coughed twice into his hand. His eyes flicked between Sav's face, chest and crotch. "Not just... your... please."

Sav seemed lost. It was awkward, standing there buck naked. He was right there, he'd said yes, hadn't he? Seated on the bed, Vivian leaned back on his hands, deep admiration written all over him, but made no further move to reach out. Now what? "Gonna join you. Okay?" When Viv nodded, Sav crawled up on to the bed past him, got himself turned around, and slid under the covers. After a moment's thought, he pulled Vivian's much thinner and lighter form across the sheet into the middle. 

When they were somewhat comfortable, aligned, facing, Sav wrapped an arm around Viv, and nodded. "So, then... You ever been with a bloke before?" he grinned.

"Tosser." Viv rolled his eyes at him again. He'd been holding his arms at a strange angle, folded across his own chest. Now Sav saw why: both of Vivian's hands bridged the small gap between them and spread out on his pectorals. Sav inhaled sharply.

"You're so warm...!" Viv ground out. "I'm always flashing between hot and cold now."

"Aye, fingers like icicles," Sav shivered. To warm them up, he spread his own hands over the backs of Viv's and pressed. Between that and the skin of his chest, they were soon of a like temperature. "Better. Go on..."

Minutely, one by one almost, Viv mapped out the fine blond hairs he was surprised to find. "I didn't know... thought you were naturally bald here. Like this... a lot, Sav."

"Do you now? I usually have it waxed, would have if I'd known--"

"Happy you didn't," Viv interrupted him. "And don't argue." He pinched the two mauve tips simultaneously.

For a second, Sav seemed startled, then he snorted. "Quit playing with me nipples, you'll give me a hard-on."

"Yeah well, like they say, sorry not sorry." Vivian twisted his fingers, but then he let go. He had to admit, it was a weird thing for him to do. 

Sav eyeballed him. "I didn't mean you should stop... uh, if that's what you want."

"What about what you want?"

"I want... that this wasn't reality. That you're healthy, gettin' low when you do your licks... fuck!" Sucking in a deep breath, Sav gathered Vivian into his arms and pulled him to himself, held on, probably too tight.

Lips landed on Sav's neck. He stiffened, but didn't move. Viv's stubble scratched his skin, a sensation he had not felt in years. So many years.

The kiss became two, then more, as Viv moved from the side down the strong column to a collarbone, across the hollow of Sav's throat to the other side, careful not to leave any marks. He licked, tasting salt, and a spot of something faintly metallic he assumed was scent of the store-bought kind. Sav always smelled so good. Despite thinking he should not, that it was too strange, Viv slid his hands down between them, eyes darting between them, up to Sav's face, and again. "Please, just let me... see you when you..."

"Wait. It's not right." 

Vivian cringed. "Sorry!" Embarrassed, he flinched away from Sav's skin.

"No... because it's not, because you said you can't..." Sav visibly swallowed hard; he seemed desperate, somehow, like he needed to answer, to explain. He asked, "How long's it been since anyone's touched you? Like that? I mean, at all?"

Viv had to think about it. Sometimes the passage of time grew a bit fuzzy. "Besides medical people? Well, I told my wife a while ago she shouldn't feel obligated. She's a great companion and... caregiver. She loves me. But this," Viv's lips pressed together into a thin line. "Me like this, not being able to make her happy in that way, is beyond what she cares to put either of us through. It's been weeks, a lot of weeks."

"You're starved for it, huh? For touch." Sav's voice rumbled in his chest, his breath directed across Vivian's throat. 

"Yes..." hissed Viv as he closed his eyes. Here they were in bed together... Talking. "It should be the last thing on my mind. Especially because... but that makes it..." 

"More?" 

"Yeah, more, worse, I dunno." He'd been thinking about these moments they were living right now since he'd asked Sav here on this date in time. He had to tell someone. Being a lapsed Catholic and now homebound left him without the option of the confessional. Viv went on, "This is one of the few things they don't talk about. Support groups, doctors, hospice nurses... whether you want to or not, you get to hear about all the things that could happen: side effects of taking your meds or not taking them, not being able to eat because you're always nauseous, no energy, how your mind will go, not being able to breathe, Christ, how you shit yourself when you die... but no one talks about, once you get here," he looked around indicating his room, his bed, "how most people only see you as this broken, dying thing. Not yourself. Not someone who still needs... The best I get is comfort, and I'm grateful for it but..." A small, wounded noise escaped. Another when he tried to hide it.

"You need it now, more than ever... Vivian, look at me." Viv wouldn't, or couldn't. Finally Sav made him, both hands lifting Viv's face till their eyes met. "This isn't about fucking, is it. It's not even about sex. That's just a means to... to... " 

Though he wanted Sav's hands on him with everything in him, Viv held still and searched his face. "I told you, I love you, and it's not because of what you look like. That's just the easiest piece to express. Working with you all these years, playing, downtime, I know Phil and I were closer musically but I trust you. Is this about sex? It might be. I haven't... you know. In as long as I told you. Longer. You wouldn't believe how much it hurts. I just want it one more time before..." His voice was a dry husk again.

"Oh...! And you're asking for my help. But... Viv, what if I hurt you? Are you in pain, elsewhere?" 

"Aye, but it's controlled. I took a pill just as you got here. On the outside chance. Two pills actually. One for pain, then a blue one. Dunno if it'll work, I might be too far gone." Viv had serious doubts over his ability to do anything but receive, whether it be just touching or more. He didn't like to admit it, even to himself, but there it was. The more they talked about it, though, the more desperate he felt. 

"I... well, did lookin' at me do anything for you?" Sav asked, fearing the answer either way. He was so far out of his depth. Others of their band had helped care for their parents in their last days; he hadn't been put through that. As for being with someone who was, in more than one sense, incapacitated, that was also out of his realm of experience. If he hurt Viv in any way, he would never forgive himself.

"Metaphysically. In that sphere, I could pound nails. In reality, some tingling. Stirring. That's about all." Another thing Viv had learned - don't hedge about anything related to his medical issues to anyone who needed to know. 

Sav looked at him a long moment. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. The unconscious act, one Viv had seen and silently eroticised too many times, quickened him a little more. Sav continued, holding his eyes, "That's something to work with. Don't you think? If I leave without at least trying, how will either of us feel?" His hands found Viv's, led them back to his torso. "Touch me however you like. Can I...?" He laid both palms on Viv's chest, thin, almost gaunt now after his long battle. 

"Please," Viv gasped, his right palm directly over Sav's heartbeat, which, he noted, had elevated. If his own reaction was mainly in his mind, Sav seemed to be getting along fine now that they were body to body, which in turn, helped Viv, too. 

Vivian needed time, and he was relieved Sav was willing to grant him that. He had asked to 'see'. In dim light, with sheets and a quilt in the way, he saw more with his hands and his entire integumentary system than with his eyes, some of which in how Sav touched him: with careful precision and no wasted movements. There was no quailing over Vivian's various scars. In fact, the first kiss he granted was to where the central line had been. Then came more. To other scars, to typical hot spots like neck and collarbones while Sav moved him this way and that to free Viv from his tee and sweatpants.

Though he knew the effort would tire him, Viv discovered for himself all the features hinted at, or seen but always out of reach. At their age, there were some blotches on the backs of their hands, some discolouration to areas tanned every year, but otherwise Sav's arms remained firm and toned, a tracery of vessels roping up his forearms. He did have the most wonderful shoulders, not insanely broad like a lot of American men, but perfectly proportioned - good genes, Viv reckoned. He finished what he'd started on tiny, hardened nipples. Light brown moles dotted the bassist's abdomen, a second trail, a constellation pointing the way. Viv had always been a handsy, grabby sort in bed. If what he did next made Sav groan, flex, unexpectedly grind against him, that was all for the better. At some point, their lips met, almost shyly, then again and again, kisses not shared now shared. It was like drowning in an ocean of years, although they both stayed conscious of Viv's breath, pausing when he had to cough. "You taste like cherry eucalyptus," Sav told him. 

"You taste like Sav," Viv replied, lapping up the flavour where ever he could reach. 

Though he kept them mostly lidded, every so often, Sav would open his eyes and stare into Viv's for a few seconds. Troubled, concerned, watchful... the vibrantly blue depths were easy to read. More than once, Viv had been about to call it off for his sake. Then Sav would touch him in some new way and all Viv could do was moan. 

By the time he was fully uncovered, all Sav's painstakingly careful work, Vivian's heart was thudding. His eyes were purple in his state of sedated arousal, pupils blown. "Please... please..." He leaned back, pulling at Sav. 

"I don't think I should be on top of you. Pressing down. You need to be able to breathe." 

"That's true, but I also can't do the work, not strong enough..."

"What about spooning?"

"No," Viv was adamant. "I need to see you, kiss you." 

"Do you have supplies?"

"Shite, no! Haven't needed... Do you...?"

"Yeah. Wallet." It was still on the chair with his clothes. Sav lifted up and made to reach for it. 

Vivian stopped him. "You sure?"

One of those 'are you kidding me?' noises came out of Sav. Pushing more firmly against Viv's side, he really didn't need to answer verbally. Instead, he questioned, "Are you?" 

"Yes!" About to break into more explicit demands of what he wanted Sav to do in the next interim, Viv found himself on his back. Leaning over him, Sav grabbed what he needed and Viv, who hadn't been anxious till this second, felt a twinge of nerves. What if he couldn't...? 

As if he'd read his mind, Sav smiled lopsidedly at him. Tore open a packet. Flicked his hair back. "How much prep you gonna need?" 

"Um... if I was a younger bloke again, like we were on about before, I'd have said something incredibly crude like, fuck lube, just fuck me open. Now... best treat me like a nervous bride."

"Lie back and think of England?" Sav grinned, then whispered what he needed to do. 

"Not England!" retorted the Irishman. "Anything but--" he squawked, then moaned, his legs suddenly having a mind of their own, making room. "Please...!" 

Sav saw it, felt it. "Those skinny legs of yours. Always wanted... can't wait to have 'em wrapped around me!" 

Now looking upward, Viv murmured, "Wanna... gonna do that for you, Sav, anything I... Ah! Ah!" He was covered, with the long, solid body of his would-be lover. He was filled, and it hurt, and then it didn't. He was rocked and loved and toyed with for... Viv didn't know. He lost track of time again, and welcomed that. His fingers and toes and lips all tingled, all busy participating in the act. Everywhere in between, it seemed, was alive with sensation. 

"Oh... oh, Sav, Sav... oh god, Sav!" The angle was perfect. Viv sensed it would take several points of contact, including the semi-rough massaging from the inside to get him there. No one would dispute the skill and care bestowed upon him. It was more relaxing and letting Sav push it out of him than anything. The congestion broke apart and Viv cried out sharply. 

"Oh fuck... did I...?" 

"'s okay, Sav. See that?" Viv dragged his fingers through the warm wet streak on his belly. "Now you. Wanna feel you lose it."

Sav twisted, crushed his lips on Viv's, and buried himself deep. 

...

They'd lain there for a while, till the timer on the nightstand started to buzz. Viv sat up long enough to take more pills, clean himself off with his shirt and get his sweatpants back on, but then he was back in bed. Meanwhile, Sav quickly pulled his jeans on and returned to the chair, sprawling spread-legged in an uncharacteristic slouch. "You alright?" he asked.

"I'm completely knackered." Viv lowered his head to the pillow, eyes slitted, barely open. "You don't have to stay longer. I got-- you gave me what I asked you for and, and so much more. Thank you, Sav..." When had words been less adequate?

"Don't wanna leave you, Viv." 

"Sav." 

"What?" 

"Get up... get dressed. Go home. Don't force yourself to go to my memorial. Remember me this way, or better, like I was. For all those years." 

"What would that say about me, if I were to not honour my friend and colleague?" 

"It would say you were respecting my wishes." Viv's hand reached out slowly to cover Sav's. "Which, you did honour me... in a way few would be so lucky. Now go. I'm gonna fall asleep. It's better if you're not here in case I don't wake up. One of those things people in my state worry about, y'know," he yawned. 

"Jesus, Viv!" Sav's voice came out plaintive and small. "They'd find you with, with my. My seed." 

"Congratulations. Your magical man-bits, done me in. Love it. Love you. Now you know." He squeezed Sav's hand gently. It was all the strength he had left. 

"You, too... I love you, Vivian. I wish..." 

"Mm. So don't make the same mistake again. 'Bye, Sav." 

Sav's eyes were far off. "Right. I won't." He returned to the here and now, knelt down and kissed Viv's hand then his lips, slack with near-sleep. "I'll see you later." 

 

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic took around four months to be born. Any feedback is appreciated.


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